


the pain of leaving you behind

by winter_scldier



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1940s, Cancer, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Original Character(s), Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28045107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_scldier/pseuds/winter_scldier
Summary: He couldn't tell Steve about it, it would destroy him. Maybe if he didn't think about it, ignored it just hard enough, it would go away. Disappear and make this whole day into a funny memory. But he knew the statistics, and he knew he wasn't going to be okay.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	1. Headaches

_It all started with a headache._

Bucky didn't think much about the pain in his head when he woke up that morning. The seasons were changing, it wasn't uncommon for to get a headache in the morning, but not usually right as he woke up. He shrugged it off and sat up in his bed, feeling the first chill of fall seep into the room. He dreaded going to work, but he needed the money. Steve Rogers was not an easy man to take care of, but Bucky lived for every second of it. He loved the way his eyes sparkled in the afternoon sun when they went down by the docks, how the Brooklyn sunset colored his hair on the fire escape. Even in the cold nights when Steve's lungs would rattle, and Bucky would hold him close, making sure he'd last through the night, he loved to feel the warmth between them as the room grew colder and colder. 

The bed squeaked as he stood up, shivering as he pulled on a shirt. He stumbled back against the bed, catching himself before falling. Strange, he noted to himself, but upon noticing his watch and that he was going to be late for his shift at the docks, he ignored it. He cursed under his breath and quickly shoved his boots on before running out the door. His manager had been getting on him about being late. He'd tried not to think about the lecture as he made his way to the docks and thought about Steve instead. Steve hadn't been sick in almost a few months now, which was almost a new record for him. Bucky thought about picking something up on his way over there after work, maybe a new sketchbook or some pencils. He smiled to himself before rounding the corner at the docks, lost in thought. As he finally arrived, he was grateful his thoughts distracted him from the lecture his manager was giving him as he got to work.

\-------

As the day drew to a close, Bucky realized his headache from the morning never quite disappeared. It hadn't bothered him during his shift, but now that the day was winding down, he grew a little concerned. He decided if it lasted into the next day, he's have to go to the doctor, as much as he didn't want to spend the money. He sighed before leaving the docks, trying not to think about it. His mood changed when he arrived at the little corner store he usually stopped by after work to get something for Steve. He smiled when he noticed Mr. Baker behind the counter. He grabbed a small notebook and a few pens before walking up to the register. 

"James!" exclaimed Mr. Baker with a cheerful smile. "It's been a little while since I've seen you in here. Another gift for your girl?" He gestured to the notebook and pens. Bucky let out a chuckle. "Yeah, guess you could say that."

As Bucky turned away from the counter after saying goodbye to Mr. Baker, he found himself very dizzy, and his headache suddenly unbearable. He stumbled as he tried to walk away, tripping over his own feet and collapsing to the floor of the shop. The world turned blurry and dark, and Bucky could barely make out the figure of Mr. Baker hovering over him, asking if he was okay. All he could do was let out a weak groan as the shop grew darker and darker around him before he finally went unconscious. 

He woke up in what he could only assume was a hospital, Mrs. Baker sitting in a chair close by. He quickly and gratefully realized his head didn't hurt as bad anymore, but a dull ache was still nagging towards the front of his head. Mrs. Baker perked up when she noticed him stirring and came over to him. 

"Oh dear James, are you alright dearie? Let me go find the doctor." She walked away again before he had the chance to respond. Once he got more grounded on his environment, he glanced around. She had the notebook and the pens he had bought beside her chair, and he smiled. He'd just tell Steve he had an extra long shift that day, and not to worry about it. He was crafting the excuse in his head as Mrs. Baker and the doctor approached the bed. He had a sad and sympathetic look on his face, and was holding a folder tightly in his left hand. 

Bucky laughed when the doctor said there was a mass in his head. _This guy has to be kidding. He's gotta be pulling some kind of sick joke._ He thought this to himself as the doctor pulled out a paper and tried to hand it to Bucky. The laugh disappeared as he soon realized the doctor wasn't joking. His mind raced, and he didn't end up hearing most of what the doctor explained. He'd heard of cancer, but mostly in people significantly older than he was. He didn't understand how this could've happened to him. What kind of unloving and cruel God could look down upon him, and curse him with this _thing_ in his head. He felt his eyes well with tears and he desperately tried to blink them away, trying not to show weakness to Mrs. Baker and the doctor. 

He thought of Steve.

Panic soared through him as he realized he'd have to tell Steve. Steve, who had lost so much, would be devastated. They hadn't buried Sarah Rogers long ago, and now Bucky had to tell Steve that he'd have to bury him next. He noticed the doctor had stopped speaking, and had asked him if he had any question. All Bucky could do was shake his head, and the doctor apologized before walking away, off to help someone else. Bucky looked up and noticed Mrs. Baker had been trying to hide her own tears as well, and suddenly he couldn't help but let his own fall and roll down his cheeks. Mrs. Baker walked over and wrapped her arms around him, promising it would be alright. The two stayed like that for a few minutes before he eventually pulled back and reclined against the bed once more, mind still racing and tears still flowing.

They let him leave a few hours later, and Mrs. Baker offered to drive him home. He didn't know where exactly he was, so he nodded and stepped into her car, giving her directions towards Steve's apartment. He decided on the ride there that he couldn't tell Steve about it. The news would destroy him, maybe even kill him first. Maybe if he didn't think about the mass, ignored it just hard enough, it would go away. Disappear and make this whole day into a funny memory. But he had read the statistics, and he knew his odds weren't good. 

He thanked Mrs. Baker for everything as he got out of her car and stared at the apartment building before him. Steve would want to know why he was gone so long today and why he hadn't stopped by sooner. Mrs. Baker made a noise and reached in her bag, revealing the notebook and pens before handing them to him. She drove away after saying goodbye.

Bucky drew in a shaky breath as he approached the door, fumbling in his pockets to find his key. Steve must've been waiting near the door for him, because it swung open before he could put the key in the lock. Steve looked worried, but relief started to settle in now that Bucky was there. Bucky tried to force a smile, to convince Steve that nothing was wrong, and he seemed to buy it. 

"Didn't think you'd ever show up," Steve teased, sitting back down on the couch on the other side of the room. "Whatcha got there?" He gestured to the pens in Bucky's hand. He had put the notebook in his pocket of his jacket, ultimately deciding he had a purpose for it, and Steve had a few unused notebooks already from other corner store trips. "Just some pens,' Bucky said throwing them towards Steve. "My 'congratulations on not being sick for 2 months' gift." The words thickened in the back of Bucky's throat, and he tried to push the feelings down. He never imagined he'd be the sick one. Steve let out a laugh as he studied the pens. They were surprisingly good pens, for the price that he got them for. Steve thanked him before setting them down, the two engaging in their daily banter. 

Bucky wasn't as focused on their conversation that day. Instead, he studied Steve. The way his body looked as he laid out, relaxed on the couch that was falling apart. How his shirt sleeves were rolled up enough to see the veins in his forearms, blue against the bright skin. He studied the fine details of his face, committing it to memory, like he'd never see it again. He was grateful that Steve had enough talk in him that day for both of them, so Bucky could listen to the sound of his voice, like the angels descending from Heaven, making him forget even for a moment, how bad things were. _If Steve is here with me,_ he thought, _I'm going to be okay._


	2. Exhaustion

Bucky didn't go home to his apartment that night. Their conversation lasted well into the night, and Steve had drifted off to sleep, sprawled out comfortably across the tattered couch. Bucky didn't sleep, spending the twilight hours memorizing Steve's peaceful features, falling in love with the way the moonlight danced across his skin. After awhile he shook his head, trying to close his eyes and fall asleep. The threat of death really makes you prioritize what matters most in your life, and Bucky was beginning to find out what mattered the most in his. 

He'd always loved Steve, but it was more than that. Since the day they met, it was like the world finally made sense. Like all the pieces fell into place at once and the reality he thought he knew came crashing down around him. Sure, Bucky had had friends before he met Steve. Boys he'd rough house with, get into trouble with and acted like nothing mattered. But when he saw one of the neighbor boys beating up on Steve? Everything changed. The world flipped upside down, and nothing mattered more than protecting him. _No one had made him feel like that before. Not a star in the galaxy could shine brighter than the way Steve's eyes did when they first met. It was love. A kind of love he'd never feel towards anyone else, he was different._

Of course, Bucky would never tell Steve about how the boys would turn on him. Call him a queer, spit on him whenever he'd walk down the street. He held his head high and kept walking. Steve would never find out, he'd make sure of that. He already had enough bullies going after him, he couldn't imagine how bad they'd treat him if they knew he was associating with someone like him. He hadn't admitted it to himself, but those boys had been right. The kind of love he felt towards Steve...the kind of love he'd get killed for having would be the death of both of them. He pulled the notebook out from his jacket pocket and studied it before standing up to grab a pen. He moved and slid down the wall by the window, trying to catch some light on the paper. Some things just couldn't be said out loud.

\------

He kept writing until the sun rose, and Steve stirred. He looked around the room stopping when he saw Bucky still sitting by the window, letting a surprised and sleepy smile come onto his face. 

"Aren't you gonna be late for work?" Steve asked, voice still hoarse from sleep. Bucky's head shot up and glanced out at the rising sun. _Shit_ he thought, but let out a sigh as he tried to push himself up. He was grateful the wall was there as he struggled to get his bearings, almost unable to stand without falling. Steve looked at him concerned, but didn't have a chance to say anything before Bucky convinced himself to start walking.

"Mornin' princess," he managed through a forced smile and gritted teeth. "I don't know how you slept like that all night, with your legs all bent like that. That sort of shit would break my back more than any heavy box at the dock." Steve chucked a little, adjusting himself to sit up. "What can I say? I'm pretty flexible."

Bucky slowly made his way out of the apartment, holding the railing tighter than usual as he went down the stairs. Dizziness made his vision swirl and he had to sit down once he was sure he was far enough away from Steve's door. His head pounded, and he was sure the lack of sleep was doing him more harm than good. There was no way in hell he'd be able to do any work that day, not in the state that he was in, but he didn't have a choice. Times were getting tougher, and he had to take whatever work he could get. He remembered he'd spotted a hiring sign in the window of the Baker's store when he collapsed and he sighed in a relief. Maybe Mr. Baker would take pity on him and give him an easier job than hauling crates all day.

It took longer than Bucky would want to admit to stumble down the stairs and onto the street. By the time he arrived at the docks, the sun was high in the sky. The boss glared at him as he walked up, but his gaze softened slightly when Bucky told him why he had to quit. He didn't say anything as he turned and shuffled his way to the Baker store. He was grateful to see the sign still up in their window as he rounded the corner, Mrs. Baker shooting up from her chair outside as soon as she saw him.

"Oh sweetheart," she said as she rushed over to see him. He could tell there was so much she wanted to say, but didn't know how to say it. At that point, there were four people in the whole world that knew that Bucky Barnes was a dead man walking, and she was one of them. He never wanted anyone to feel burdened because of him, he was supposed to be the strong one. But something about the way she grabbed his hands, the pity in her eyes, he couldn't help but cry. He hadn't cried many times in his life. Once, when Steve nearly died during one particularly cold winter, his lungs rattling so loud he thought the whole building would wake up. He cried holding Steve, prepared for him to breathe his last breath. He cried in the hospital, right after his diagnosis, and here he was crying again. The pair silently entered the shop, and it didn't take much convincing Mr. Baker to offer him an easier position, making sure he'd be alright.

Whenever the store wasn't busy, he made sure to pull out his notebook, and write.


	3. Shaking

Bucky's condition got worse and worse by the day. He'd never be sure just how long the mass was in his brain, but judging by how close to the edge he seemed to be, it could've been years. The thought didn't bring him any comfort.

The symptoms became almost impossible to mask, and Steve was catching on. Bucky was losing weight rapidly, not being able to force himself to eat or keep food down for more than a few hours. Stumbling and falling became more common, and he had to practically crawl up the stairs to Steve's apartment more than once. For the most part, Steve didn't say anything, but Bucky could see the terrified looks when he thought he wasn't paying attention. Bucky was supposed to be the strong one. He was supposed to be the one that buried Steve, not the other way around. For years, Bucky had been planning Steve's funeral. He knew after the terrible winter that nearly killed him the first time, he was lucky to wake up each morning. Neither of them would've imagined it would be Bucky, collapsing onto the floor of Steve's apartment screaming in pain as Steve froze, powerless and terrified. 

He was wrapped gently in Steve's arms when he regained consciousness. Steve was sobbing as he held him, barely avoiding an asthma attack. Bucky reached up and grabbed one of Steve's arms trying to calm him down. He grasped Steve's hand and ran his thumb over his knuckles, trying and failing to blink away his own tears. They stayed on the floor for what felt like hours as Steve tried to force himself to calm down. 

"I'm sorry," Bucky whispered once Steve had stopped sobbing. All Steve could do was shake his head, his suspicions finally confirmed. "How long...how long do we have left?"

Bucky couldn't hold back his own sobs anymore. The truth was he didn't know how much longer they had together, but he knew it wasn't long. The mass was messing with his memory and his motor functions, and even if he didn't die soon, it wouldn't be long before he wouldn't be able to talk, or write, or walk. _He might not remember Steve._

Steve helped Bucky sit up, understanding the meaning of unspoken words. He wrapped his arms around Bucky, his arms fitting comfortably across his slim torso. Steve grimaced, realizing he could feel each individual rib under Bucky's skin. They were close to the same weight now. They held each other on the floor for hours, each one not wanting to let go. Neither said a word until Bucky slowly pulled back, and reached out to hold Steve's face in his hands like it was the last thing he'd ever touch. He gave him a weak smile as Steve leaned into his grasp, and Bucky wiped one of his tears away. 

In that moment, Bucky knew his end was coming. He wasn't going to get better, and he knew he didn't want to get any worse. Memories flooded back of when he helped care for Sarah Rogers before she died. He didn't want Steve to ever see him like that, paler than a ghost, unaware of what was happening around him. But he was nearly there, and they both knew it. Because Bucky quickly realized that he wasn't able to get up off the floor anymore, and he didn't know if he'd ever be able to take another step. His body flooded with panic as he tried to push himself up, and collapse again. Steve managed to help him get onto the couch before moving him to the bedroom, where he would stay for the rest of his life.

Steve never left his side after that, and Bucky knew he was always there, holding his hand as he slept more and more. Food didn't stay down at all anymore besides maybe tiny bowls of soup, and he just kept losing weight. In the brief and rare moments where he could force himself to stay awake, they talked as long as they could, trying to hold onto the time that they had left. Terrified that everytime Bucky would fall asleep, he wouldn't awake again. _Funny,_ thought Bucky as he could feel himself start to drift to sleep. _I'm supposed to be the one worrying if you were going to wake up tomorrow_

When Steve was asleep in the bed next to him one night, Bucky leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. His hand trembled as he cupped Steve's face in his hand and stroked Steve's cheek with his thumb, too weak to keep it there for long. Steve stirred but didn't wake, and Bucky was glad to have him by his side all this time, through both the good and the bad. He cast a glance at the notebook on the bedside table. He couldn't write it in anymore, god knows how hard he tried to keep his hands steady, but it didn't work. Steve hadn't looked through it, he was good about respecting Bucky's privacy when it came to his belongings. He didn't want Steve to read them until after he was gone. It took effort, but he grabbed the book and the pen from the table, and scribbled Steve's name onto a piece before ripping it out and putting it on top of the cover before drifting off to sleep.


	4. Cold

Bucky Barnes didn't wake up that morning, and he stopped breathing just after two that afternoon. Steve sobbed when he realized this was the end, but he stayed by Bucky's side until then, keeping him comfortable and talking to him. Steve held his hand as he died, and his body was taken to the morgue not long after. For the first time, Steve was completely alone. The silence of the apartment overwhelmed him, and he fell to his knees amd wailed. 

Steve remained on the floor for hours he convinced himself to stand. His hands shook as he wiped the tears from his eyes and stumbled back towards the bedroom. He sat down on Bucky's side of the bed and held his blanket to his chest, desperately trying that Bucky had just spent the night like when they were young. That he'd just gone off to work and would be back after sunset with some cheap food from the stands by the docks, but Bucky wasn't coming back. Steve's only comfort is that he knew Bucky didn't die alone, and he died loved and cared for. He took a deep breath into the pillow and slowly put it back down. That's when he noticed the book, addressed to him in Bucky's shaky handwriting.

He picked it up and gently opened it, the spine weak and cracking. He took a deep breath as he started to read.

_Steve,_

_I'm sorry for everything, I hope you believe me when I say that. I don't even know how I'm supposed to tell you about what's happening to me. Well, I guess by the time you read this I won't have to. I know I shouldn't talk like that, I'm supposed to hope for the best, right? Maybe if I pray everyday, get on my knees and beg God for forgiveness, he'll take this thing out of my head and this whole thing will just become a funny joke. But I don't think God could forgive a sinner like me, not according to Sister Maria anyway._

_I have so much I need to say and I don't know how long I have to say it, and that terrifies me so fucking much. We were meant to grow up together, spend the rest of our lives together, and now it could end at any second. Goddammit Steve, I'm so scared. I thought I was ready to go, that some day you'd have an asthma attack and I wouldn't get there in time and I'd be following soon after you, but I never dreamed in a million years I'd be gone first._

_I had all these dreams of what our future could've been. I hoped and prayed for a future that I could tell you how much you really mean to me without living in fear. And I can only hope you don't read this and see me any differently than when I stood beside you, but I need to say it. Maybe that's why I won't let you read this book until I'm gone, I'd be nothing without you and I think your rejection would kill me quicker than this tumor. I took a cowards way out, and I'm sorry. I love you, so much Steve, more than you'll ever understand. I wish I had the courage to tell you that, but I just can't do it._

_Maybe someday you'll get to see the future I always wished for, I hope it treats you better than the present treated me. Maybe they could find a way to help people like me, and people won't have to die as scared as I am. That's what I want my legacy to be once I'm gone, I don't want people to feel what I feel. The fear, the sadness, the pain. Would you do that for me? Mr. and Mrs. Baker at the shop by the docks will help you, that I'm sure. They've always been kind to me. And another thing; when I'm gone, never forget how much you've done for me. If I had never met you, I'd be dead and gone already. You've saved my life more that I could ever save yours, and I'm sorry that there's nothing anyone can do this time. You're my hero, Steve Rogers. I love you so much, and I can only hope you don't forget me anytime soon._

_Yours,_

_Bucky_

The whole book was full, but Steve couldn't read most of the pages, especially as Bucky's hands had started to shake more. It took significant effort to but the book down, and to start walking down to the Baker's store. The cold wind whipped against Steve's face as he stumbled down the street towards the docks, grateful that the sounds of the city could distract him from his thoughts. He approached the Baker's store, and took a breath before stepping inside. 

Together, the three of them helped create the James Buchanan Barnes foundation and helped fund research into brain tumors and treatment. Steve liked to believe Bucky was looking down on him with pride, happy that they were able to fulfill his wishes. Steve only wished he'd gotten the chance to speak to him, one last time.


End file.
